


lover, keep me steady

by sybilluv



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Bisexual Panam Palmer, Character Study, Comfort, F/F, One Shot, She learns Spanish from Jackie and no one can convince me otherwise, V is bilingual, female v
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29543379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sybilluv/pseuds/sybilluv
Summary: “I’m a dead woman walking. Shot in the head, revived how many times from the same thing that’s killing me. Every time, I feel emptier. I’m barely V. I look at my left hand,” she looks down, clenches the synthflesh, feels her nails digging into her palm, “and I’m so confused, ‘cause it’s supposed to be silver. My arm got blown off in Mexico, same time as that soul sacrificed his life for mine, took a bullet for me, ‘n I managed to klep his tags before passing out. Woke up in a cot, medbay. No left arm, but I still have that soul’s tags in the hand that remained.“Then I remember those aren’t my memories and I lose myself all over again. In the fear, in the anger, whatever emotions of mine remain. Panam,” she says, voice trembling, “I’m scared. I barely recognize myself when I look in the mirror.”ORI had an idea based off of the paragraphs above and managed to flesh it out into a full thing. It's just another character study with my two favorite gals and Johnny Silverhand.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand & V, Panam Palmer/V
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	lover, keep me steady

**Author's Note:**

> I really like this one! I think my writing's been improving a bit, fortunately, and I think this one is a gem. Of course there'll be mistakes, which are as always my own. Hope you enjoy, and translations of the Spanish (which I'm not fluent in, I used a translator so they might not be accurate to what I'm trying to say) will be at the end note.  
> Thanks for reading!

Love. It’s a strange feeling, especially when you can’t tell which emotions in your body are yours. Might be that all the feelings V has are strange, now, since the tapeworm’s settling in further each day. Not that Johnny enjoys what’s happening to V. Neither of them do, really. Their perspective on the subject is the same:

It’s all just one big fuck up. 

A cigarette’s hanging out of V’s mouth while her legs are dangling off the cliff she’s sitting on. She called Panam in an episode of panic, after she looked in the mirror and couldn’t recognize who was staring back at her. Her nomad companion was already in the city for some business with Rogue, so she was on V’s doorstep in minutes.

Then Panam told her to grab her jacket, whatever basic necessities she needed. “We’re getting you out of the city, lover girl. You need a break,” she muttered, giving V that puppy dog look that she can’t possibly say no to.

Now they’re out in the middle of bumfuck, nowhere in the Badlands, with Panam leaning against her truck a couple feet away, giving V the space to swim through her thoughts. Honestly, she’d prefer not being alone, since she took the blockers after her disassociation moment back at her apartment. No Johnny to annoy the living fuck out of her. A blessing and a curse.

Who knew that the presence of silence could be so fucking loud?

She takes a pull of her cigarette, exhaling smoke that temporarily covers Night City from her vision. If she focuses hard enough, the sound of the city reaches her; muted, but still audible. From some deeper, darker part of her mind, she wonders what sort of apocalypse would have to happen for the city of nightmares to fizzle out and die. A world war, maybe? A nuke right in the center of the city.

No. That didn’t work. 

She remembers the screaming while she was on the stretcher, the debris while she wheezed through the mask over her mouth and nose. Sirens flashing in her eyes, Ara-fuckin’-saka cunts running all over the place like chickens with their heads lopped off. Remembers the way she tried to move but she couldn’t feel a fucking thing. Couldn’t really think, either, not with the pain all over her body.

It would take a fucking bomb nestled into the core of the earth for Night City to perish, rubble of a giant’s shadow smack in the middle of the desert, phantoms at every corner. Nature would eventually take over, moss on concrete, weeds sprouting through any crack that they can.

V punches herself in the leg, grounds herself in the way that it stings.

Separating herself from Johnny’s memories, his  _ thoughts, _ is practically impossible at this point. So she glares at the place that managed to get her into this fucked up situation. Right now, it’s the only thing she can do.

Johnny doesn’t hate Night City. The megacorporations destroying the opportunities of those less fortunate, stealing every natural resource faster than they can grow back, resiliency fought by the greed of man;  _ those _ are the people he hates. Their gluttony for attaining power undeserved, grimy hands grasping at anything they can, under the belief that they are Midas, and anything that they come into contact with will turn to riches that they might abuse without consequence..

She slams her fist into her leg again. Even when Johnny’s asleep, his preaching about the terrors of megacorporations echo in her head. Not that she thinks that what Johnny is wrong, per se.

It’s just fucking annoying that she’s falling into the same thought process as a domestic terrorist.

V hates the fucking  _ city of dreams. _ Who the hell could love a lie constructed from concrete, breathe in the smog and call each day a good one with a straight face? No one. No one is ever truly happy in Night City, no matter who they are, where they came from. The happiness is temporary, but the grief is forever.

Even still.

If not for Night City, she would have never met Jackie. On one hand, he was the best thing to ever happen to V. A light shining so bright in the darkness, after she’d lost  _ everything. _ He was her best friend, her  _ brother. _ Her anchor. Night City brought them together, and for that, V’s thankful.

On the other hand, Night CIty tore them apart. That, in turn, cause a ripple effect, turning V into a mark of death. 

Judy lost Evelyn.

Panam lost Scorpion, but they saved Mitch.

She managed to save Takemura, as well, to Johnny’s utter disappointment. Spared Oda, too, if only because she didn’t want to earn the ire of one of her only allies that she can trust. Johnny also disagrees on that idea. 

_ No corpo-dog is trustworthy, and Goro’s a fuckin’ pure-breed, through and through. Think he actually gives a damn about you, the damsel in distress? Maybe if you were a centuries older ‘n your name was Saburo, he’d really be lickin’ your boots. Tongue’d probably be elsewhere, too. _

God. He’s so fucking infuriating, sometimes. 

But he’s a part of V, now. They’re two sides of the same coin at this point, even though they’ll be separated by the end of their time together. She hates him sometimes, but it never lasts. Which is why she hates thinking about how he’ll inevitably have to leave.

She loves Johnny like a brother, but she’s  _ not _ about to sacrifice herself for him. Not when there’s the chance that she might find a cure.

Fuck.

A cure that might not even exist, or something that costs millions. V’d never be able to afford that.

While she hates to admit it, every path leads to a dead end. She’s in a labyrinth with the engram that’s killing her, and there’s no exit. No relief without the sacrifice in this second lifetime of hers.

The cost of the completion of this chapter of V’s story, of  _ living, _ is another heartbreak. V’s already dealt with a lifetime of those. Shit, she’s flatlined how many times, now? Her heart’s stopped and started again, sputtering like the engine of some old jalopy. Her body’s practically Johnny’s already.

Still,  _ fuck _ giving up. 

That isn’t what V would do, regardless of how much remains of her actually remains in this fucking body. Even if the current her is an amalgamation of herself and Johnny, she knows that her past self would straight-up deck her current self in the face. Call her pathetic, push her around. Press her buttons and get tell her to get her ass in gear.

_ Lord _ knows what Jackie would tell her.

Too much, probably. He would talk her damn ear off, mention a story from his past that probably wasn’t true, and tie it to V’s current situation. Pull V into one of his tight bear hugs and say,  _ “Todo saldrá bien; ya verás, V!” _ Like he could see the fucking future. 

Maybe with Misty, he could, in a sense. Knew that he was going to die in Konpeki and still went. God,  _ fuck _ him for doing that. Aware of his imminent demise, and what? Thinking that he could change fate, his destiny? 

Bullshit. 

V’s pulling her phone out of her pocket without really thinking about it, scrolling through her contacts all the way to the bottom, lifting her phone to ear. Ignoring how it goes straight to voicemail with that stupid automated message. Waits for the beep.

Wonders if it even fucking matters, leaving these voicemails. If he’ll ever hear them.

“Jackie. What were you thinking,” V sighs, taking a long drag of her cigarette before taking it between her fingers, flicking it away. “Misty told you to avoid reds. ‘Saka logo? Red. Shoulda just stayed back at the esoterica with her while I handled Konpeki with T-Bug and Delamain. Bet that would’ve gone great.”

She would’ve died. 

“Probably better that way, really. You had so much going for you, while I… well, I only got back to living because of you. Lived as an empty husk, about as animated as a fucking faulty S.C.S.M. Then you came along, and everything in this goddamn city got some of its color back. Left just as quickly as it came, though. I, ah, shit. These always take a turn for the worse. 

“Jackie… ugh, _fuck._ _Sólo quería decirte que te extraño,_ Jacquito. _Imbécil_ _.”_

Tears her phone away from her ear and ends the call.  _ Yeah, that’ll show your dead best friend, V. _

“Done with your call, V?” 

She jumps, almost drops her phone.  _ “Shit, _ Panam. Fuckin’ scared me,” V breathes, pressing a hand to the sharp something stabbing her chest with every heartbeat. “Y-you need somethin’?”

No response, Panam simply keeps walking until she’s standing right next to V. “I don’t,” she replies after a moment, “but I’m pretty sure you do. I’ve got two ears and both are open to listen, V.”

Panam knows about Jackie. Not a lot, but enough to know that there’s only one Jacquito in V’s life, and, if she heard that call, then she’d know that V was calling a dead man. A dead man she would’ve gotten along great with. Emphasis on  _ would’ve, _ for obvious reasons. Can’t exactly meet each other when one’s got a niche at the Columbarium. 

“You tellin’ me you’re wanting to play therapist?” V deflects, shoving a hand in her pocket to fish for another cigarette. Johnny’s complained about the brand, that Evelyn smoked some high-bar shit that makes his binary skin crawl. As V lights it and takes a drag, though, she can’t tell the difference between what she used to smoke before Johnny’s influence and what’s between her lips, now. She offers one to Panam.

“I don’t smoke, V. You know that,” V shrugs, pocketing the case while Panam continues, “and fuck off, I’m not trying to play therapist. I’m  _ trying _ to be a good friend.”

V hums, glancing at Panam before settling her gaze back on the cityscape, watching the holo-banners ascend into the smoggy sky. “I ‘preciate it. I know feelings aren’t exactly something you’re good at.”

“Fuck you. Are you going to take my offer, or do I have permission to just kick your ass?”

“Honestly, a good spanking might do me some good, at this point.” It’s a joke, but V’s deadpan tone makes it fall flat. She cracks after a few more seconds of silence, taking a pull of her cigarette before flicking it away again. “Every time the relic malfunctions, I’m fucking terrified, Pan. Thinking,  _ this is it, this is the last one. _ Coughin’ up blood, head reeling, stomach churnin’. Skin on fire, breathing in flames and breathing out ice. Every inch of me inside ‘n out burning, scalding, but fuckin’  _ freezing _ at the same time. My legs give out ‘neath me, and the only thought that hits me through all that pain is,  _ oh, the jig’s finally up. _

“I’m a dead woman walking. Shot in the head, revived how many times from the same thing that’s killing me. Every time, I feel emptier. I’m barely V. I look at my left hand,” she looks down, clenches the synthflesh, feels her nails digging into her palm, “and I’m so confused, ‘cause it’s supposed to be silver. My arm got blown off in Mexico, same time as that soul sacrificed his life for mine, took a bullet for me, ‘n I managed to klep his tags before passing out. Woke up in a cot, medbay. No left arm, and I still had that soul’s tags in the hand that remained.”

V grabs the chain around her neck, runs her thumb over the  _ Robert John Lindner. _

“Then I remember those aren’t my memories and I lose myself all over again. In the fear, in the anger, whatever emotions remain. Panam,” she says, voice trembling, “I’m  _ scared. _ I barely recognize myself when I look in the mirror.”

Strong arms wrap around V and she breathes Panam in, gasoline, gunpowder, with the faintest smell of lavender on her Aldecaldo jacket. “I go down that line of thought and I always end up askin’ myself: Would Jackie even recognize me?”

There are no tears. V hasn’t been able to cry since she almost died at Laguna Bend with Judy. Still, her throat burns. 

“V,” Panam starts, voice soft, “You’ve told me little of Jackie, but I can assure you that he would  _ always _ be able to recognize you. No matter what happens, how much time passes, family knows. And he knows  _ you, _ the parasite in your head be damned. I know you, too. I look at you and I see V, hard-ass solo who saved my life, gonk-brain who I… I care about, not some  _ Rockerboy _ who’s reconstructing your brain to make you anyone but yourself. You’re  _ you,  _ V. And it’ll stay that way, I swear.”

The little truths in what Panam says lift some of the weight off of V’s shoulders. “Thank you,” she whispers, weak and trembling, because right now, she isn’t the hard-ass solo V. She’s just V, broken and dying, standing only because Panam’s arms are wrapped around her and keeping her vertical. 

“I hate this city. Hate what it does to the people that live here, especially those who don’t deserve it,” Panam mutters, venom in her tone not pointed at V, but the skyscrapers and neon lights miles away from them. “I promise I will help you, V. You will not be dying on my watch.”

“I don’t plan on letting anything kill me anytime soon, Pan,” V replies, pulling away to smirk at her nomad companion. “So no need for you to promise me anything.”

Panam rolls her eyes, the corners of her lips quirking just so. “Gonk.”

Thank God for Panam Palmer. One of the good things to happen to V after everything she sacrificed at Konpeki Plaza.

_ “Eres tan hermosa, _ puppy eyes,” V murmurs after pulling Panam close again,  _ “Gracias por todo lo que has hecho por mí. Eres lo mejor que me ha pasado.” _

“You know I don’t know what you’re saying, V,” Panam laughs, rocking V side to side in her arms. “Not entirely, at least. My Spanish is a little rusty.”

“I said that you’re a gonk and you need to get an auto-translator like mine.” She laughs when Panam weakly slaps her, joy bubbling and spreading through her body, slow and warm and sweet like honey. 

Jackie would love her. Maybe not how V loves her, not the same way. But he definitely would. 

V knows that if there’s one feeling that’s still hers, it’s what she feels toward Panam. Love. Regardless of whether or not she’ll ever actually be able to admit it aloud, she loves Panam. And she’ll keep loving Panam for however long she has left, whether that be minutes, hours, days, or months.

That desperate part of her hopes that it’s years. The part that wants to live decades alongside the Caldos, riding over desert dunes, resting a head on Panam’s shoulder while they’re sitting by a campfire. Listening to Cassidy and Scooter, hearing stories from the vets with a beer in one hand and her other in Panam’s, her thumb running over rough skin, warm and content. 

She’ll do anything if it means staying near Panam like this. Even if it means storming Mikoshi by herself, just so she doesn’t lose anyone else. So she doesn’t have to hear the grief choking Panam again, on the edge of tears but not letting herself cry.

Anything.  _ Anything _ for her.

**Author's Note:**

> Todo saldrá bien; ya verás - Everything will be fine; you'll see
> 
> Sólo quería decirte que te extraño - I'm just calling to say that I miss you
> 
> imbécil - idiot, dummy
> 
> Eres tan hermosa - You're so beautiful
> 
> Gracias por todo lo que has hecho por mí. Eres lo mejor que me ha pasado - Thank you for everything you have done for me. You're the best thing that ever happened to me
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Until next time!


End file.
